


Siring

by yeaka



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Breeding, F/M, Female Ori, Impregnation, Mating Cycles/In Heat, PWP, Public Sex, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-31
Updated: 2015-01-31
Packaged: 2018-03-09 18:57:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3260798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Along the road, Ori’s cycle hits, and she needs to make little dwarf babies <i>immediately</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Siring

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MocaJava](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MocaJava/gifts).



> A/N: Fic for anon’s “Dwarves tend to have population issues because the few females they have are very unpredictable in their ovulation cycles. They don't have monthly cycles, some females have one or two a year while others will only have that many in their lifetime. fem!DoYC has never had one before but suddenly finds herself having her first ever during the quest. The cycle puts the female Dwarf into a kind of heat, and overwhelmed with the desire to have babies put in her RIGHT NOW, she basically goes to the middle of the camp, strips down, and gets on all fours. The message is abundantly clear and many of the males, being offered the rare chance to sire a child, jump at the opportunity. Bonus for lots of dirty talk and impregnation kink.” request on [The Hobbit Kink Meme](http://hobbit-kink.livejournal.com/13429.html?thread=25306997#t25306997).
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own The Hobbit or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

They’ll need to set up camp soon, just to stop everyone’s whining. In the perpetual dark of Mirkwood, it seems impossible to tell when it’s night, but they’ve been trudging on in misery for what feels like ages. Bombur’s complaining so loudly that Óin doesn’t even need his trumpet to hear it. Dwalin would walk straight through the night if he could, just to get out of this dreaded place sooner, but he knows that Thorin will give in; Bilbo’s valiantly quiet but swaying on his feet, and Balin’s falling behind. Just as Dwalin thinks it, Thorin calls over them, “We’ll make camp at the next clearing.” Sighs of relief ripple through the crowd. Dwalin doesn’t have the heart to shatter what little good spirit there is, so he keeps his grumbles to himself. 

Something tugs at his sleeve, and he almost snatches for his hammer, going into battle-mode mid-step, but he turns in time to see it’s only Ori. Her smaller hand stays clinging to him, her face flushed a little pink in the strange lighting. She’s looking at him _so imploringly_ , and Dwalin relaxes, continuing his walk. “Dwalin,” she mumbles, tugging at him again, though she already has his attention. “Dwalin, I _need_ you.”

His brows knit together in confusion, and he looks over her shoulder instinctively. But there’s nothing there but more generic forestry, twisted in illusion. “No,” she mutters, shaking her head, and she quickly rises on her feet, up to whisper in his ear, “I need you inside me. _Please_.” Blustering, Dwalin stumbles to a halt, Bifur and Bofur moving automatically around him. Thorin’s stopped, and the others start to chatter, dropping their packs right in the middle of the path. Soon Balin, the last, brushes past Dwalin, and he’s still standing there, now looking down at Ori, who’s fidgeting in place and leaning into him. She wraps her arms tightly around his, flatting against his side, her small breasts pressing into his bicep. He can feel her whole shape, and she begs him, “Please, please, I want it to be _you._ I’ll let them all have me, of course, but I want you to be first. Please take me...” She breaks off in a needy moan, squirming against him. At first, Dwalin thinks the forest’s driven her mad, and he’s angry at himself for growing hard in response. 

But then he sees the true lust in her eyes, clouding all her features, and he knows _exactly_ what’s going on. The heat’s taken her. A dwarf maiden’s cycle is a rare, intermittent thing, precious to all dwarves, lest their population die. When it strikes, it strikes _hard_. Dwalin’s never seen this look on Ori before, but he’s been privileged enough to see another dwarf once go through it. It was an alluring, primal thing, wondrous all around, but she was nowhere near as tantalizing as Ori is, and Dwalin almost feels feverish with the sudden excitement that takes over him. He’s dreamed many times of putting a child in Ori’s belly, but for all he knew, Ori would never have the cycle, let alone want him. The heat won’t drive a woman to mate with those she doesn’t want, and the way she looks up at Dwalin now makes it very clear what she wants. 

She moans again, unable to keep it down to the quiet hush needed not to draw the others, “I can’t take it, Dwalin—I can’t! I feel so _empty._ I need you inside me—I need all of them inside me—I want you to put a baby in me, and oh, I want them all but I hope the first of the litter is _yours_ —I’ll give you such good children, I promise—” The rest of her rant is buried as she nuzzles her face into Dwalin’s shoulder, her hips cantering wildly against his side, and he can even feel the wetness through her skirt, impossible as it may seem. She’s completely lost in it already, and it’s all Dwalin can do to wade his way back to coherency through her pitiful whimpers. 

“It’s alright,” he says, for lack of anything better, and then feels distinctly stupid. But his tongue’s too thick to do better. He’s completely hard by now, and the others are starting to notice. Glóin, the closest, has turned to watch them with wide eyes—already a father, he must know _exactly_ what’s happening. Dwalin puts his hand on Ori’s shoulder, meaning to remove her from him and start the process, but she does it for him. 

She keeps one arm firmly locked around his, and the other starts tearing at her clothes. She manages to shed her cloak from her shoulders in less than a minute, and then she’s pulling at the front of her dress while she slithers down his body, sinking to her knees. She rips several of the buttons off her top in her haste to get it off, and Dwalin reaches down to help, but she finishes before he gets there. She yanks the front open, her breasts spilling out, round and perky and heaving with her breath, her rosy nipples already peaked. She wrenches her belt off her body and tosses it wildly aside, and by the time she has her skirt open, every dwarf in Dwalin’s peripherals is staring. He can’t pull his eyes away from her long enough to see who that entails. 

In a heartbeat, all of Ori’s clothes are gone. They make heavy piles all around her, and she finally lets completely go of Dwalin. Instead, she turns to the ground, getting on all fours. She stays there like an animal, spreading her legs enough for Dwalin to see her juices dribbling down her thighs. Young and new, all Dwalin can think is that she must be _so_ fertile; she could probably give them a litter of a dozen or more, if not one for every dwarf who has her. A part of Dwalin almost feels sorry for little Ori, normally so calm and quiet, but the rest of him knows that this is a natural part of dwarfhood and that this cycle is often the most pleasurable time of a dwarf maiden’s life. But it doesn’t matter, because even if he felt entirely sorry for her, he wouldn’t be able to resist, not when she’s wagging her ass in front of him like that and looking up at him like she’ll die if he doesn’t fill her up. 

Dwalin’s already fiddling with his belt by the time Thorin bursts through the crowd, marching right up to them. It takes every ounce of control Dwalin has to stop and wait for his king’s commands. He swore he’d follow Thorin anywhere, but if he were ordered not to touch Ori, he’s not sure he could obey. Over her shoulder, Ori looks up at Thorin with flushed cheeks and burning eyes. She groans and lifts one hand to fondle her breasts while he stares at her, her hips gyrating wildly in want. The scent of her arousal is everywhere, and it makes Dwalin want to growl and fuck her into the hard earth. His fists fall to clench at his sides, waiting.

“It’s her time,” Thorin announces, loud enough to carry over the camp, though they all must know. Out the corner of Dwalin’s eye, he can see their burglar gaping, looking utterly bewildered, but no one bothers to stop and explain to him. Looking down at her, Thorin asks, “Who do you want, Ori?”

“Oh, _you_ ,” Ori moans, before shaking her head and gasping, “But Dwalin first... ahh, and Bofur, and... Fíli and Kíli at once... Bombur, oh, all of you! Please!”

Dwalin looks at Thorin, and he nods once: all the permission Dwalin needs. He’s got his belt open a second later, frantically lifting his tunic and pushing down his trousers while Dori comes up behind him, insisting dangerously, “You better treat her well, all of you—”

“Of course we will,” Thorin snaps, sounding almost offended, but Dwalin can’t be bothered to check how he looks. Dwalin’s busy falling to the ground to kneel behind Ori, his waist high above her little one, though she tries to lift her ass up to meet him. She keeps looking over her shoulder with a half-shy, half-rapturous expression, and it’s good to know that the regular Ori is in there _somewhere._ Dwalin can still hear the others dwarves fighting, all clamouring to be next in line, even though Thorin will surely get the honour, and Dori and Nori insisting they give Ori breaks and time to rest in between. Dwalin plans to jump to her defense and make she’s taken care of, too, just as soon as he’s finished his turn. 

The second he’s got his cock out of his pants, Ori’s grinding back into it, the tip of her rear reaching just below his balls. She bucks up against him so that his length slides between her crack, and she groans loudly, head falling again. Dwalin can hear the need in her voice and tries to soothe her by putting one hand on her waist, petting it gently even as he wants to claw in and grab a proper hold. Her warm flesh is so _soft_ against him, and his precum’s already drizzling out between her cheeks, eager to fill her up. At least one of her children is going to be his—he’ll be sure of that. He has to push her back long enough to position his cock down beneath her legs, spreading his to accommodate for the height difference. Ori clamps her thighs around it as soon as she can, squirming raunchily for friction, and that makes Dwalin hiss and almost lose track of everything. He has to grab her waist tighter and hiss, “Ori, let me line up...”

“Sorry,” she moans, though she’s still rubbing against him, and he has to physically push his hand between her legs and shove them apart again. “I just... oh, I want you so _badly_ , Dwalin, please, please, get in, plug me up... _ohhhh_ , I was always hoping my first would be with you, but I didn’t think—I’m so glad I came—and now I have all of—of you— _ahhhh_...” Dwalin’s barely able to pay attention, he’s so busy trying to keep his head afloat. He rubs his hand between her legs, feeling along her dripping lips, dilating open and soaking wet around him. As soon as he puts one finger against her slit, it quivers around him, and she buckles forward, face burying in her arms on the ground. He can just barely process what she said—that she _wanted_ him, even before the heat, and he feels wildly lucky at the thought—he was a fool to not act sooner; they could’ve been practicing, enjoying one another’s company, assuming Dori wouldn’t have killed him for it, but at least he was lucky enough that she still came to him first, had time before the madness took her to pick out the first dwarf she wanted...

He parts the lips of her pussy with two fingers, his other hand guiding the crowning head of his cock to her pink entrance. He can only hope she’s far along in her heat enough to take him—she’s young and small and probably tight, and he’s particularly well-endowed with thick ribbing around his girth and the natural bumps of pulsing veins. At first, when his tip’s pressed against her, it doesn’t seem like it’ll fit, but then she pushes back onto him with a wild cry, sucking the head in all at once. Dwalin’s the one to gasp, his head thinning at the instant pressure and heat all around him, the moisture easing his way. He pushes a little bit forward, rocking his hips, then pulls a little out and goes in again, and each thrust finds him deeper than the last. Her body sucks him in, and in no time at all he’s fully sheathed inside her, impossibly far with his heavy balls right up against her lips. For a moment, he just holds her thighs firmly against him, squishing their bodies together. Her channel is so, _so_ tight, but she doesn’t seem to have any pain or mind at all, and he knows intellectually that this must be so much looser than she usually is. Her walls seem to spasm all around him, shivering around the ridges of his cock and pulsing with life. Below him, she makes a pathetic keening sound, and Dwalin pets her back like soothing a pony, murmuring, “Shh... that’s a good girl...” She whines louder, rocking her ass against him. 

He drapes down over, just needing more contact, even though all his clothes are in the way. He can’t be bothered to remove them all, not with how many of his friends are waiting their turn. He can feel all their eyes on the woman crushed beneath him, but he doesn’t care. He flattens over Ori’s back, putting one hand down to balance his weight and wrapping the other around her trim middle, holding her in. She mewls delightedly and nuzzles her head back against him, light brown-red hair tickling his cheek. She’s beautiful, flushed and naked, and he can feel every ragged breath; she’s panting like a dog. When he can’t take it anymore, Dwalin starts to move, drawing out his hips halfway before slamming in again, enough to make her almost fall forward, except that he’s hanging onto her. She quickly goes limp in his arms, surrendering to his greater strength, letting him fuck her hard and drag her back. The slapping noises fill the air, and he almost feels bad for the coarse fabric of his clothes against her soft skin, but she shows no discomfort, only lust. 

Every thrust is as delicious as the last. Ori feels _perfect_ around him, just how he imagined. Better. He would’ve had no one else bear his young. Or at least, he would’ve preferred her, and he can’t wait to see her bulging with her litter; the thought of it alone makes him growl and pummel her tight pussy all the harder. He’ll take _such_ good care of her, he knows—they all will—but he’ll be the fiercest, even more so than Dori, and he’ll make sure no harm ever comes to her and her beautiful belly for the rest of the quest and afterwards. Maybe he’ll be able to keep her in Erebor with him—of course she’ll have to stay, he realizes; she’ll be bearing Thorin Oakenshield’s young—and then he’ll get to see her everyday and maybe put his litter in her again the next time her heat comes around, if it ever does, and even if it doesn’t, surely he can at least have her on her own, if she wants him, and he’ll prove himself worthy, he’d do _anything_ for her. The more he fucks her the more relentless he gets, and Ori screams along with it: music to his ears. Her pussy keeps squeezing around him like she _wants_ to milk him out, but the best part of it all is the ecstasy he feels in her, how good he’s making her feel; she should be a _queen_.

She grabs at his hand suddenly, moaning over the heavy slapping noises and her own panting breath and Dwalin’s ferocious growls, “Touch me, oh, please touch me—touch my breasts, please, _oh_ , and when you’re done, maybe when the others are taking their turns with me, you can— _ahhh_ —you can fuck them; oh, _Dwalin_ , I want your cock between my tits—ah, and—and in my mouth—ohh...” She breaks off again, but it’s enough, and Dwalin’s so dizzy with lust he’s not even sure he’ll make it that far. 

Over him, Glóin offers, “I’ll fill her mouth—”

But Thorin declares, “She wanted Dwalin first. Wait.” Dwalin’s grateful when no one argues. He’s sure when this round is done, it’ll be a wild party of cocks everywhere, everyone scrambling to feel Ori in some way, but they must honour her wishes and he’s so _honoured_ that she would choose him first, exclusively, and he can make sure his seed impregnates her first. One of her small hands scrambles at his wrists, and he just barely remembers to obey, moving his hand up his chest to squeeze one of her breasts in his hand. 

It’s _exquisite_. The whole experience is. Ori’s chest is small, and some dwarves want them bigger, want plenty of milk for their young, but Dwalin likes it like this, where his hand can easily encase her entire breast, his palm shoving it back against her chest and squeezing roughly, blunt fingertips digging in around the edges. He can feel her hard nipple pressing into him, and her hips start bucking all the wilder, shoving on and off of him even harder than he’s going. He alternates between her breasts, needing his other hand to keep up, and she starts whimpering promises for after: “When they’re done and it’s wearing off, I—I want to ride you— _ohhh_... slow, in your lap, and if there’s any milk in me, you can have it and... ah... oh, and... and you’ll fill me when I sleep, won’t you? I don’t want to sleep empty...” It’s hard to understand her around all the panting, but Dwalin’s hissing an intelligible mantra of _yes_ against her ear. Anything she wants. 

He shouldn’t mark her. He knows that. She isn’t his to mar, but his mouth opens anyway and his teeth graze over her shoulder, and she gasps his name and clenches so tight that he knows he won’t make it much longer. He sinks his teeth into her delicate skin, wanting to hold on and cover her in his marks, claim her for his own. He half expects Dori and Nori to grab him and drag him right off, but all that happens is Ori screaming in delight and heaving her breasts into his hand, her pussy onto his cock. He wrenches his teeth out only to lap over it with his tongue, soothe the reddened skin and start on her neck. He kisses and licks and bites at her while he pounds into her, and when he’s sure her breasts are too sore to take anymore abuse, he shoves that hand down her body and feels at the tip of her lips, spread wide around him. He finds the little nub of her clit, nestled between her open labia and just against his cock, and he starts to rub at it, fingering her from the outside and plundering her from the inside. Ori loses it completely—her words break off and don’t make any sense, and then suddenly she’s tightening so fiercely that Dwalin gasps, hips hesitating for half a thrust. 

Her channel fills with hot, thick juice, and he realizes that she’s being ripped through an orgasm. Her body goes rigid before convulsing around him, her hips driving back at him while she’s milked out. He doesn’t know if he should stop—the thought of it is horrible, but he’d do it if she asked—and after a few seconds she tosses her head back against him, moaning, “Oh, Keep going! Fill me up, please, please!” So Dwalin surges back to life. She’s still burning hot, still participating fully, and he remembers that, of course, she’ll have many rounds tonight—she’ll probably come more than a dozen times. He just had the honour of giving her her first, and he starts to build her up to another one as he pummels home. 

Ori’s want, more than anything, is what gets to him. He’s impressed he lasted as long as he did, but he can’t forever, and soon he’s roaring his peak, shoving into her so hard that he ploughs her right into the ground. Her poor body writhes against it, pinned beneath his weight, and Dwalin slams his cock into her again and again while his seed bursts out, drenching her walls. She’s moaning and clawing at grass, and he buries his face in her shoulder, pounding it all in to make sure her body takes it. He already knows he’s come harder than he ever has in his life, spilling a massive amount of seed, and even as he’s dying down, he stays in her, pushing it as deep as he can, plugging her up. His head is swirling with thoughts of what he’ll do to her as soon as he’s hard again, where he’ll rub his cock against her body, and what she’ll be like in a few months when she’s fat and cute and carrying his child. He makes a silent promise to take _such good care of her._

And then there’s just nothing more to give, and he knows he’s humping her just for the sake of it, body so aroused that he can’t stop, even as he comes down. He can vaguely hear Thorin’s voice, ordering, “Get off her, Dwalin.” It takes everything he has to listen. 

A few more thrusts, and he stills, and then he pushes up and pulls out of her, watching in awe as his cock draws out both their mingled juices, her thighs completely drenched. The cheeks of her ass are burning red from being pounded into, and the night’s only started. He only moves out of the way when Thorin shoves his shoulder, and then he sits down next to her, and she looks up at him with her eyebrows drawn together adorably, pupils blown so wide they’ve eaten her irises, cheeks flushed dark enough to drown out her freckles and her teeth biting into her lip. She lifts a hand onto his knee, and he holds it there, planning to sit with her for the rest of the night. 

Then Thorin’s rolling her over and climbing between her legs, spreading her thighs open. As he pulls her right up his lap, he dons a lecherous grin and promises, “Time to fill you up with some little princes and princesses.” Ori looks like she wants nothing more. 

Somewhere in the background, Dwalin can hear Balin exclaiming that Bilbo’s fainted. Dwalin doesn’t even look around; he’s watching his king’s magnificent cock slip into Ori’s inviting pussy. He squeezes her hand, and they start all over.


End file.
